


You've Got A Lot To Say For The One That Walked Away

by CaptainBlood



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Anger, Bayern München, Borussia Dortmund, Bundesliga, Fluff and Angst, Football | Soccer, Gift Fic, M/M, Past Relationship(s), they get back together calm down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 08:27:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3127844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainBlood/pseuds/CaptainBlood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robert Lewandowski couldn't even begin to describe the weight that sat on his chest the moment the final whistle blew. He didn't know how to feel. On one hand he had just helped his side, his new side, to victory. But on the other, he had been a catalyst in the downfall of his old team, he could hardly believe it, but he had helped Dortmund sink.</p><p> The warm reception Marco had given him in the tunnel, the hug and their signature handshake would certainly not be returned out there, not when the world was watching and not when he had cancelled out Marco's goal with his own. He approached the blond as steadily as he could, knowing what defeat tasted like himself, he knew what he needed to say; but he wasn't sure how Marco would take it. </p><p>Marco had tested Robert to the capacity of the word, and when the latter failed he couldn't help but feel the slightest bit sorry for himself. But somewhere between a "snubbed hug", a simple screenshot of a news article, and a heartfelt declaration; he was reunited with what he had missed so dearly. Robert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Got A Lot To Say For The One That Walked Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bananasplit86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bananasplit86/gifts).



> So...Bananasplit86! You're probably wondering why I have gifted this to you, but it's because you never fail to leave comments on my works, and that makes me really happy. :,D So you requested more Lewy/Marco, and I would be dumb not too. I highly enjoy writing those two. So this is for you, I hope you enjoy it. C: (P.S it's kind of long *5,782 words to be exact...*, and I hope that you don't mind)
> 
> Of course we all know (or most do) about said incident, so I just wanted to write a little something on it. ;D Hope you enjoy~!
> 
> Not Beta-read. Will be edited by myself at some point in the near future.

"Marco," Robert called as he wiped the sweat from his brow. His legs wobbled uneasily, almost as if he was a young animal taking it's first steps into the real world; and if he were honest with himself, he'd say he felt that way as well. It was the first time in what felt like _forever_ that he was face to face with the blond in front of him. But if Robert recalled their farewell correctly, he would say that tears were abundant and the words that were exchanged were of heartbreak and painful remorse. But now, the younger man showed no signs of either of those things. The tears were replaced with a disappointment so fierce, it almost looked to be malice, and his lips that had once trembled so longingly had been pressed into a firm, thin line. Robert slowed his pace as a frown tugged on his lips, Marco on the other hand, showed him no look of kindness as the gap between them was finally closed.

"Marco, I'm so sorry." Robert said as he hung his head down low and forced, and he meant forced, the younger male into his arms. During their brief contact, Marco didn't lean into the older man's touch like he used too, he didn't bury his face into the crook of the brunette's neck; and more noticeably, he didn't speak. When Robert felt a hand push them apart, he could barely believe it was the blond's; but a roll of the younger man's eyes as he gave a sympathetic look was too telling to ignore.

_He doesn't want anything to do with you right now._

His mind screamed the statement at him, but for a brief moment he found himself standing unmoving, just blinking as he tried to wake himself from the nightmare he swore he was in. Marco took a step back then, getting closer to his team mates and further away from Robert as the brunette tried to apologize once again.

"I'm sorry, Marco. I really am."

Marco didn't look convinced, and instead he just ran a hand through his bleached hair. Robert knew that action was a warning of sorts, having known the blond well enough; he knew there were only three situations in which the younger male did that. _1.) When he's nervous or anxious about something. 2.) Whenever he has a big decision to make either on the pitch or off of it. And 3.) When he wants you to leave him alone. A defense mechanism, of sort._ With a frown and a nod of his head, Robert walked away from his ex-team mate then, not daring to look back as he raised his hands high above his head and clapped for the fans who had come out to see them. Cheers met his ears as he gave the crowd a phony smile and a thumbs up before disappearing down into the tunnel, out of the crowds eyes and out of the camera's prying lenses. He rubbed his hands together absentmindedly, trying desperately to calm himself, though he wasn't sure why he was upset in the first place. 

_Do I miss Borussia Dortmund? Not necessarily...I miss the guys...and Marco...but I'm perfectly happy where I'm at now. Maybe it's because their falling apart? Not because I'm not there, but because Mars has been hurt...and well...so has everyone, really. Then why do I feel so..._

"Great match, Lewy. You did great out there today." Mario pulled Robert from his revere with a simple two sentence praise and a slap on the backside. The brunette smiled and thanked him for the kind words as he slipped an arm around the younger man's shoulders, both heading into the dressing room. _All smiles, Lewy. They don't care about how you're feeling right now. You won, Bayern won, rejoice a little._ He reminded himself as he let his grip on the blond slip away before pealing his sweat ridden jersey off of his back. When he caught sight of the Bavarian crest he let his fingers trace the pattern for a moment, eying the blue and red with mixed emotions. _You worked hard to wear that crest, don't forget that. This is what you wanted, this is all you ever wanted in football._ And it was. Robert had always had a longing to play in the Bavarian side, so much so that he turned down interest from several other European _Giants_ in order to do so. Had he been happy in Dortmund? Yes. Was he happier in Munich? In a way, yes he was. 

Celebrations rang throughout the dressing room as the lads saw Borussia Dortmund fall even farther away from them, and with a heavy heart, Robert celebrated with them. Mario Götze didn't seem fazed in the slightest by what had transpired, but then again...why would he be? He had been just as eager, if not more so than Robert, to join the Bavarian club and redefine his legacy as a footballer. Though, Robert supposed he no longer needed help in that department. Scoring the winning goal in a World Cup final had put the young blond's name in headlines around the world. He had become a hero. Robert would be damned if he didn't say he was a tad jealous over that, he doubted he'd ever be as fortunate. Then again, he'd even admit that he didn't put his all in International matches; people had called him lazy for it and to a point, he would admit that he was. Robert showered before excusing himself for the evening, he was in dire need to rest his head on a pillow and sleep. The match had proved exhausting, not only for his body but for his mind as well. 

The journey to his home was not a long one, and with Anna no longer being in the picture, the home was anything but lavishly decorated. It was simple, more elegant than most but also more tame than his team mates, and other well off to do friends. He didn't claim to be a simple man, but he was still having a hard time decorating a place that didn't quite feel like home yet. It was empty, it was cold, and it was all Robert could manage to keep together in his hectic life. Deciding that his bed was too far away, he slumped into the plush leather couch that faced the television. After settling himself in with a pillow from one end, and the blanket that usually laid on the back, Robert cocooned himself towards the flat screen before switching it on. He wasn't surprised when the first thing that came on the news was the highlights from all of the matches that took place. He watched them with tired eyes, not really caring enough to actually pay attention until he saw his own team's reel begin to play. The showed Marco's goal, which Robert would admit was nice, as were ninety percent of the other ones he scored. Then a few missed opportunities flashed on the screen before cutting to his very own equalizer. He watched as the video showed him point to the sky above, a dedication, something he would later have to emphasis was _**not** a celebration._ Then Robben's goal was shown before cutting to one more missed attempt at goal, after that they showed post match reactions; something he wasn't surprised that showed his and Marco's awkward exchange. He didn't realize it prior to that moment, but the blond looked believably pissed. He was sure people would take it the wrong way and claim Marco was furious with the brunette, but Robert knew that was not the case. _Not anymore, anyway._ Without bothering to check his phone or even see what time it was, he shut his eyes and fell into a deep sleep; one that provided a nightmare about being burned at the stake in the middle of Signal Iduna Park. He would be lying if he didn't say that Marco had been the one to set him ablaze. 

He woke with a chill and a dramatic fling of his arm, his body surging forward as if he had just fallen off of the world's tallest mountain. But he hadn't. He was still in his living room, his skin was in it's proper place and not burned to a crisp like he had dreamt it was. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and shook his head, waking himself up a bit more as a bright light filtered into the light colored room, the blinds did little when they weren't drawn all of the way, he noted as he stretched out his limbs. The television rolled on quietly in the background as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, trying to adjust to the bright light that illuminated his surroundings. Once comfortable enough, he reached around for his phone; which he found tucked under his pillow. Momentarily ignoring the thousand notifications, he checked the screen for the time. It was 11:01 A.M. He wasn't surprised in the slightest he had slept in so long, but he regretted choosing the couch as his bed for the night. His limbs screamed in protest as he moved into a seating position, eyes raking over the notifications one by one for what felt like forever. After being kind enough to reply to a few, he cleared his phone screen of everything but calls and texts. And he had a lot of them. Some were from Mario, asking if he wanted to hangout; but those had been sent late last night, long after he had fallen asleep. He quickly explained that he had crashed before checking the others that filled his inbox to the brim. After texting his family members back, he lingered over Marco's text before deciding to click on it. It was a picture of their awkward hug, well really a screen cap of a news site. The title read **Marco Reus Snubs Ex-Team Mate Robert Lewandowski** , and just for the sheer audacity of it, he found himself chuckling before clicking the link Marco had been so kind to provide. He read the article with a smile on his face, the fact that people took their actions as something far more serious was absolutely astonishing. But he had to admit that it was a pretty funny exchange of events, and he knew how it looked. It looked just as bad as the reporters made it out to be, but he knew better. Marco was putting on a farce for the cameras, for the fans, and even for himself. He had been upset but it was not, and he'd repeat, it was not, for the fact that he hated Robert for leaving for Bayern. He was frustrated with the Polish striker, yes. And he was frustrated with the loss of the match, and the further sinking of his club, but he was not mad at Robert Lewandowski. Though the latter was still a bit mad at himself, he just couldn't pin point why. With a tap of his finger, he quickly drafted out his reply to the blond Dortmunder.

**To: Marco Reus :D**

**They seriously think you hate me...**

Robert relaxed into the couches cool cushions, his hand reaching for the remote so he could flip it to a movie. Once settled in again he check his phone screen, not at all surprised when he saw the blond had already replied, and at length.

**From: Marco Reus :D**

**Right!? Can't people understand frustration? XD**

**U know I dont hate u. Youd be an idiot to think I did. I was pissed last nite but thats about it, I wish u wouldve missed the goal, tbh. But it is what it is. I cant change it and neither can u. Srry I "snubbed" u. U r an asshole but u at least deserved a proper hug. Ur hugs are my fave to...**

Robert shook his head slightly as he re read the message again, eyes catching and correcting all of the horrid errors and text "speech". _Marco, you're 25...are you ever going to stop acting and talking like your 16? Not to mention dressing...no, no. Second thought, don't change...you're cute as is._ He chuckled as he made a mental note not to say anything about the grammar before typing out an equally meaningful reply. Free of spelling errors.

**To: Marco Reus :D**

**I am not an asshole, thank you very much. You love me. Also, I know you were just upset...it's actually understandable. But forgive these imbeciles, they've never played a minute of competitive professional football and they have no idea what the emotions are really like. For a moment there, I honestly thought you did hate me. But then I remembered how happy you had been to see me...I was happy to see you too, honestly. It's been too long, Marco. I'm sorry about Dortmund, I really am. I guess I shouldn't be saying such a thing because it's "unprofessional" but yet again, the same people who say that are the people who have no idea what our lives are actually like. I wish there was something more I could say, I love Dortmund, and I want nothing but the best for you and the boys. You all will be back to challenging Bayern in no time, I am certain of that. Speaking of which, don't be an idiot like Götze and I. I know you and I haven't really spoken since we broke up...but...if there is any truth at all to these rumors, do NOT leave your home. You know what I mean. I am not saying that I made a mistake, no, you knew what my intentions were...you knew what Mario's were too. But people can be cruel, and they will make you feel like a monster for it. Dortmund is your home, you're a star there...why would you want to leave and just be another face among the many when you could stay there and be the hero among the tried and true? Also, don't even consider Real, I'm not trying to be rude, but I know you like guaranteed first team football and I just don't see them getting out of their ways. I mean they are doing so well as is, I doubt they'd disturb the flow they have at the moment. Dortmund will need you one day, and you need to be there to rise above and show the world what you're made of Marco Reus. I believe in you, and I will never stop being your biggest fan...**

**P.S. My hugs are pretty good...aren't they?**

Robert locked his phone and sat it on his chest, not being entirely sure why he sent the text in the first place. _What if he takes it the wrong way? What if he thinks I'm being controlling, or being a dick by telling him how to live his life? I don't want him to think of me like that..._ Sighing, the brunette striker climbed off of the couch to shut the blinds and conceal the room in darkness, once completed he retreated to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and a quick breakfast made up of fruit and yogurt. When he returned to the living room his text to Marco had been read, but a reply was not yet on his way; and after he had finished eating he realized he may be waiting forever on the blond to ever say anything back to him. But eventually he got what he had waited twenty one minutes for, not like he'd admit to counting the moments he went without it. 

**From: Marco Reus :D**

**Ur not tellin me anything I dont already know Lewy. It just sucks whether u want to believe it or not is up to u but I do love Dortmund and I do love my role here at the club. sometimes it gets hard and i start to think about what life would be like somewhere new but then i remember what life is all about and i dont think leaving this place now is in my cards. people talk more about my future more than i think about it. i dont wake up evry day and think to myself where ill be six months or two years from now. i take whatever life comes at me, and i try to handle it with grace. as much as possible...anyway. thanks for the concern but i think u need to focus on ur own life and stop worrying about poor little Marco Reus who u left behind in Dortmund. u did leave me after all. i guess ur bit of guilt is a small price to pay for the damage and pain u left behind. u probably dont even think about me. ur words are sweet but ur not being honest with urself anymore. u love munich. u love playing for bayern, and u wouldnt come back for anything in this world. u wouldnt even come back for me and u havent. yeah i love u, but i also hate u in a way. idc that u left dortmund it hurt but thats done and dusted. what hurts is the fact i broke up with u and u didnt even try to make it up to me or get me back. thats what i wanted...i wanted to know that ud still care...even if u were so many kilometers away. do u even miss me at all?**

Robert stared down in horror at the screen, this time he didn't even try to unscramble the words and phrases and instead he just let the words sink into his head. Marco hadn't wanted them to break up, he had just wanted Robert to prove he would be willing to work and try to make their relationship work, despite everything else. Despite the cameras flashing, and the crowds pointing, and the private eyes following their every move as if they were specimens in a museum, Marco had wanted him to prove that he would work around it all. The distance, the so called rivalry, the travel, the different schedules...he just wanted proof of Robert's so called undying love. _And I just gave up...I didn't even....I didn't even try to fight for him. I didn't even try to make it up to him, or promise him I'd always be there and that I'd visit him often. I gave up...and that was the last thing he wanted me to do...that was the last thing I should have done..._ Mortified with himself he leaped off of the couch and placed a call to his agent with the intention of giving him one of the most desperate of pleas. He dressed himself as he repeatedly phoned his agent, hoping that he would answer at last. When Robert was fully clothed and ready to head out the door his agent finally picked up the phone.

"Hello? A groggy voice answered and Robert mentally slapped himself for having an agent that slept until twelve in the afternoon.

"It's Robert, get me a flight to Dortmund...like right now. Round trip. One that leaves in thirty minutes would be great. And one that will have me back by ten is ideal." He stuttered as he locked his home up and bounded purposely to his car, a small, rational part of his head told him he had training tomorrow and that he shouldn't be doing anything. But the other part longed and pleaded for him to fix the mess he had created for himself...and for Marco. Screw texting the blond back, or phoning him; he would show up in person with a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates and he would do it today. Training in the morning be damned.

"Are you kidding me right now?" His agent huffed but Robert vaguely heard the sound of fingers tapping on a keyboard in the back ground, _at least he's doing his job._ "Can't you just drive to Dortmund? What's the rush?"

"The rush is none of you business, but if you must know it's a family emergency. Secondly, that will take too long. I work tomorrow, believe it or not showing up for training is a job." Robert seethed as he went as fast as the traffic of Munich would allow him, red lights were something the brunette was growing a huge distaste for.

"No need to be grouchy, but doesn't your family live in Warsaw? Also, there's one that leaves in twenty minutes, can you make it in time?" Robert cursed all of the people in Munich that were on the roads to hell as he observed his surroundings. He didn't necessarily have to be in Dortmund in the next hour and a half, but every second he waited he felt the guilt and realization become that much more agonizing.

"Yes, yes. Just book the flight, please." Robert forced the last word and decided not to respond to his agents question on his family, but instead he turned his attention to taking the exit so he could make it to the air port. _Godspeed._ He reminded himself once he merged onto the road, ignoring the suggested speed limit, he floored his Audi until everything was passing by him in a blur. His agent having told him he would text him the details of the flight, he found no point in staying on the phone and instead turned his full undivided attention to the daunting task at hand. He weaved in and out of the other cars with a new found expertise until he was outside of the airport and throwing his keys at a valet who he barely spoke to other than to give his name out. Once inside the slightly crowded place, he unlocked his phone and darted into the direction of the gate; not caring how insane he looked as he weaved in out of the patrons until he found the ticket booth closest to the gate. 

"I need my ticket for flight 337, please. My name is Robert Lewandowski, here's my I.D." He said as quickly as he could as he offered his card to the petite blond woman who worked behind the counter. He thanked his lucky stars that his trade was football and that he could run at ungodly speeds and not suffer the slightest hitch in his breath. 

"Sir, you're ticket is economy class...that's all we have left. Are you sure you don't want to wait for the next one? That way you can fly first class and not be crowded by so many people. It would be less enjoyable for someone of your status. It's only an hour from now too, an-"

"No, thank you. Economy is fine. Please, just hand me my ticket." He interrupted with feigned politeness, how dare the woman even suggest he was too good to fly with the _everyday, average people, in the everyday average class._ He was no god amongst men, he was just a lucky individual who just so happened to be very well known; he was no better than the woman standing behind the counter. Even though her suggestion made his skin crawl and his nerves fray. 

"Okay...here...have a good flight, Mr. Lewandowski." She added with a pout as she handed the ticket off to him, the flight boarded in three minutes and he was still thanking God for the fact he had made it in time. By the time he went through the mandatory security check, the plane was boarding for his section and he was thankful he had made it. He should have known better than to wear laced shoes to the airport, taking them off and putting them back on took way more time than he would like to admit. Once his ticket had been stamped, and he had confirmed that he in fact, had no luggage, he walked through the tunnel and onto the crowded jet. People exchanged glances as he strode past them, looking for his seat with what he liked to call his _blinders_ up. Not like these people didn't deserve acknowledgment, but his thoughts were a bit preoccupied and he didn't feel the need for a full blown interview on why he was traveling to Dortmund in a _common_ persons plane. No, thank you. He would handle the wrath of Pep when he got back if the snapping of camera phones meant anything to him, he would bet a million euros that his face would be plastered all over the internet detailing of his venture. He would make up a lie when the time called for such a measure.

He was seated next to an elderly woman who appeared to have no idea who he was, not like expected her too, because he was actually thankful that she didn't. Having turned his phone on airplane mode, he made a grab for the headphones he had so quickly thrown into his pocket. After the stewardess went through the basics and protocols of emergency landings, something he could recite by heart at this point; he slipped the ear buds in. He posed for pictures with a few people who politely interrupted his music, but he was all smiles for the cameras and for the patrons who claimed to be some of his biggest fans. _Smile, fake it. Don't let them see how panicked you are, don't tell them why you're going to Dortmund. Say it's an emergency, say you're fine and ask how they are. Don't let them see what's eating you alive. Stay calm. Stay humble yet cold. Stay professional. Don't. Let. Them. See._ He repeated the mantra in his head, something he had always done when he felt the weight of being a _perfect role model_ or a _perfect person_ become too much for him. He was not perfect by any sense of the word but for the sake of the people and for his reputation and career, he would be an idiot not to pretend that he was. 

The flight ended exactly 70 minutes later, and after taking his phone off of airplane mode he rushed through the crowded tunnel and into the heart of the Dortmund Airport. A place that felt so foreign to him, though it had once been a place he had been a frequent patron of. He had memorized every crack and every crevice memorized as if it was the only thing he ever needed to know, too much time spent in the same place did that to a person; and Robert was no different. With calculated steps he made it to the front exit without incident, hailed a cab; and managed to avoid every person that pointed him out amongst the crowd. He had become an expert at the art of evasion, and though it was a cat and mouse game; he was by far the experienced of the two. After rambling for the driver to take him to the nearest floral shop, he prepared himself for what he would say when he finally arrived. He hadn't even thought of what words would best describe how idiotic he felt. But he hoped that maybe he would find something, some words that would string about the most heartfelt confession he had ever expressed but the problem was that Marco had likely heard them all before. The striker even thought about sending his condolences on behalf of their once fiery, loving relationship but decided that such a measure would be both idiotic and a slap to the face for the both of them. The driver eventually told him they had arrived at the shop, and Robert asked for him to wait there while he ran inside. Between exiting the cab, and entering the flower shop, Robert had already concluded what he would need to prove his remorse and sorrow. 

Purple Hyacinth's for forgiveness, blue Hyacinth's for sincerity, pink Carnation's signaled an apology for the forgetfulness of one lover to another; and Robert made a mental note to ask for a ton of those. After instructing the Florist on what he would like to construct he added that he would like White Tulips, a true sign of asking for forgiveness from a loved one, before turning his attention back to grabbing the biggest, most expensive box of chocolates he could find. The bouquet was huge in the end, and if the 130 euro price tag didn't say it all, he could add that he could barely hold the thing in one hand. The box of chocolates that totaled out to be 35 euros of the most lavish chocolates he could find, was a little price to pay for the pain he had caused. He almost pondered whether or not he should stop by another shop and buy something more expensive but the time limit he was on wouldn't allow it. After instructing the driver on where to go, he relaxed into the cab's seat. No longer worrying over what words he would say when he was finally face to face with the blond. He had just seen him last night but he already felt like a distant memory. Robert made a mental note that he hated that feeling and that he would never allow it to happen again. 

Once the driver's cab had come to a halt, he thanked the man with a 200 euro bill, something the driver gawked at, before climbing the staircase to Marco's beautiful home. The last time he was on these steps it was when he kissed the blond goodbye before departing for Munich. That had been so long ago that he could hardly believe it. He had tried to stop by during the World Cup, but Marco was too upset about not being able to actually _be playing in the World Cup_ , that he insisted none of his "football friends" visited him. Robert wasn't sure he liked the term, it almost made him seem unimportant in comparison, but he realized that was a selfish and cruel thought, and he dropped it. Collecting himself once again, he gripped the flowers in one hand, barely, and held the box of chocolates in the other; before poking the doorbell with one free finger. He waited for what felt like an eternity before the door opened up, revealing Marco, who sported nothing more than a pair of BVB track pants and a black wife beater, opened the door. Robert hoped the words would roll off of his tongue like felt, and that he would say something so passionate that even he fell in love with himself, though he realized that was something dumb to think, anyway. But it didn't happen like that. Instead, he stood in the doorway, gawking at the blond, mouth opening and closing like a fish that been left out of the water and for the first time in a long time, Robert Lewandowski was absolutely speechless. 

The blond stared at him with wry eyes, not entirely sure why the Polish striker he had just poured his heart out too, just meaning two hours ago, was standing in his doorway with a huge pile of flowers and a box of chocolates big enough to cause enormous weight gain. Robert winded up laughing when the younger man finally cracked a smile, one arm pushing the thick wooden door open while the other took the flowers out of the striker's hand. Robert found his words when the pair were putting the floors into a vase, the chocolates already have been broken into, and Robert knew he would regret his choice in the morning. Running non stop on a stomach full of chocolate and salted caramel didn't sound like a good idea to him anymore. 

"You know what these flowers mean, right?" He stammered as he carefully cut the stems Marco held firmly together in his hands, a seemingly happy smiled was placed on the blond's lips as he hummed a song Robert recognized hearing the younger man listen too years ago. He couldn't be sure why he remembered that, though,

"Mhm, forgiveness, sincerity, and...ultimate forgiveness forgetting a lover's bad dead, hm?" Marco answered as he carefully began to place the arrangement into the vase, a content look in his eye as he collected the fallen petals and instead of tossing them, put them on the island in his kitchen. Making it look more decorative then Robert could have imagined it would.

"You're right, how did you remember?" The Polish man asked thoughtfully as he closed the lid on the chocolates, knowing Marco well enough to know that the other man was clearly full and in no mood to be sick from eating too many sweets. 

"You taught me, believe it or not...I always listened when you spoke to me." Marco answered wistfully and Robert had to take a moment when he realized that the younger man hadn't even asked why he was in Dortmund, or why he had rushed here and shown up with a box of chocolates the size of his arm, or a bouquet big enough to equal a garden's worth of flowers.

"Marco...I-" Robert was cut off when a warm pair of lips grazed over his, ones he would remember even if his memory was swiped clean or if he had lost all of his other senses save for touch. Marco's tongue danced alongside his, the blond tasting of a sweetness from the candy and of a taste that could only be described as his own. Robert found the latter to be one of the most addicting substances in the world. If he had to choose between never drinking water again, or never kissing Marco again he would _kiss_ the water goodbye, and accept his fate of dying as the luckiest man in the world. When they broke away, Robert finally found the words he had been trying to say all along. "I'm sorry..." But Marco was having none of his self loathing, or his apology. In fact he covered his lips and cheeks with a barrage of kisses before pulling Robert's face down so their foreheads laid flush and their noses brushed, and their eyes were locked in the most sincere of gazes. Marco finally said his resolve. 

"I know."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/Kudos= love. <3


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